


Shape Of You

by wittlenell



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Ed Sheeran - Freeform, First Meetings, M/M, Modern AU, One Shot, Sexy Fluff, Song fic, could be a series idk yet, kind of???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittlenell/pseuds/wittlenell
Summary: Enjolras stared up at the man, R, who had now leaned so far he was pressing against Enjolras' back, just ever so slightly. His hair was a mess of wild, black curls, but his face was nearly hairless. He had a strong jawline and deep green eyes, which were squinting as he smiled at his friend across the counter. All he wore, from what Enjolras could see, was a dark V-Neck and black jeans with a couple bracelets and rings on each hand.He was stunning in this light.





	Shape Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stopcallingmeapollo (GayMarauders)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayMarauders/gifts).



> yall ive never written les mis before im so sorry this is @stopcallingmeapollo's fault

_ Girl, you know I want your love, _

_ Your love was handmade for somebody like me... _

The shot glasses hit the counter as Enjolras barely disguised his gags. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while Courfeyrac laughed beside him.

"There you go! Loosen up!" He clapped Enjolras on the shoulder, "Are you feeling it yet?"

"One is enough," He warned, reaching for his glass of water and taking a sip. He shuddered as the after taste slipped down his throat.

He smiled good-naturedly, hands up defensively, "One is enough, no more. Unless, of course, you change your mind."

"I'm fine," He insisted, "Thank you." He turned to face the bar, not giving Courfeyrac a chance to look at him like  _ that _ .

Enjolras didn't know how he ended up here. One minute he was working on an essay, the next he was walking through downtown with a pair of Courfeyrac's jeans on, heading towards a bar. They were in the middle of finals and Enjolras  _ knew _ Courfeyrac had a research paper due, and yet here they were. Wasting time. With fake IDs because they couldn't wait just a couple months for the real thing.

Still...

His eyes flicked back to his friend, who was downing another shot and was somehow surrounded by brand new friends he had made while Enjolras was turned around.

Still, he thought as he messed with his glass, maybe leaving it for just one night wouldn't hurt anybody. Maybe... He could let loose with his roommate. 

Suddenly, a stranger's voice was coming from just above his head. "Whiskey, just like always," He said with a teasing smile in his voice.

"R, you son of a bitch," The bartender laughed heartily, "I thought you were staying in tonight."

"I just couldn't stay away from you Baz," He winked.

Enjolras stared up at the man, R, who had now leaned so far he was pressing against Enjolras' back, just ever so slightly. His hair was a mess of wild, black curls, but his face was nearly hairless. He had a strong jawline and deep green eyes, which were squinting as he smiled at his friend across the counter. All he wore, from what Enjolras could see, was a dark V-Neck and black jeans with a couple bracelets and rings on each hand. 

He was stunning in this light.

"Oh, pardon me," He said, finally acknowledging Enjolras. He stepped back, picking up his whiskey glass as it was set down, "It's so crowded in here, you know how it is." He nodded a thanks to the Baz The Bartender and winked to Enjolras before walking away.

He should've been disgusted. He should've been affronted, offended, uncomfortable by the way that man felt like he could just  _ touch _ him like that and what's more,  _ wink  _ like it was a game. Unfortunately, he was none of those things.

"Another shot, please."

"Y'know, I don't believe I ever saw your ID."

"Shot."

Baz smiled and shook his head, pouring one and sliding it across the counter.

_ Come on now, follow my lead, _

_ I may be crazy, don't mind me... _

Enjolras kept an eye out for the handsome stranger. It wasn't on purpose, he didn't want anything from him or anything. In fact, the guy was probably a douche. He looked like an artist, the kind who brought his guitar to parties because he was "working on something and wanted a second opinion." That's practically on par with imprisonment as far as Enjolras was concerned, and he certainly wasn't interested in falling for the trap.

He was taken out of his thoughts when Combeferre greeted him, taking a seat beside him, "Hey, Enj."

"H-hi," He stammered out, caught back in reality, "We've been waiting for you."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," He said, "I was in the library for hours. I couldn't risk not getting at least some of my work done, especially if I have to be here until Courf tires himself out." He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he turned to the bar for a soda. 

"I could've driven him home, you know," Enjolras said after a pause, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no," He replied immediately, nearly dribbling Coke everywhere, "Courfeyrac specifically requested I come because otherwise, and I quote, Enjolras won't let himself drink and have any fun." 

He groaned, "Are you kidding?"

"You can ask him," He shrugged, taking another sip before reaching over for napkins, tidying up the counter.

He rolled his eyes, "No thanks." He sighed and pursed his lips, looking back into the crowd as he sipped on his drink.

Across the way, he found a familiar face. 

The artist.

He was dancing on the dance floor with a girl who had long, braided hair. His hand was pressed between her shoulderblades, covering the patch that she definitely hand sewed into her black denim jacket. In his other hand was that damn whiskey and in between sips, the two swayed their hips back and forth to the music together, completely in sync, never quite touching, only a whisper between their bodies.

Before Enjolras could look away, he looked up and caught his eye.

They held the gaze for way too long and Enjolras could feel himself start to sweat. His hands shook and his cheeks flushed. He jerked his gaze away and gulped down his water, hoping Combeferre wouldn't notice the change in behavior.

This was so stupid, he was so  _ stupid _ . This wasn't his scene, he didn't belong there. He wasn't made for this type of thing, so he grabbed his jacket and keys, said his goodbyes, and headed for the door.

"Leaving before we dance?"

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. He pivoted on his heels, bracing himself.  _ Please don't be... _

The artist.

"I didn't know I owed you anything," Enjolras bit out.

The artist just smiled, the way he smiled at the bartender, "Didn't you know? Bar rules. Stare at a stranger too long and you owe them exactly one dance."

"Well, pardon me," He echoed the man from earlier, "I didn't know, this isn't really my thing. So if you don't mind, I'll pass tonight."

He didn't answer. He only raised an eyebrow, and okay so maybe Enjolras didn't believe his own protest. Maybe they both knew how tempted he was to dance with this stranger, maybe he wanted to act his age for once in his goddamn life and just be held by a handsome stranger in a dark gay club downtown, but temptation couldn't outweigh the anxiety when he barely even knew the man's name, only a nickname from the bartender.

Still...

He held out his hand, "Enjolras."

The artist smiled warmly, shaking his hand, "Grantaire. R."

"One dance."

"Just one." 

_ Say, boy, let's not talk too much, _

_ Grab on my waist and put that body on me, _

_ Come on now, follow my lead, _

_ Come, come come on now, follow my lead... _

So he let himself be lead out onto the dance floor. He dropped his jacket with Combeferre as he passed by, not daring to look his friend in the face.

Finally, Grantaire seemed satisfied with their spot amongst the bodies because he stopped and turned to him. His eyes were dark, full of something Enjolras couldn't begin to name, but his hands were so careful and caring in his own.

He was so busy staring into green that he completely missed that Grantaire was talking, "I'm sorry, what?"

The man laughed, "I was asking, is it alright to touch?"

"Of course," He furrowed his brow, perplexed, "We're dancing. How else?"

With that, Grantaire grabbed hold of his hips, pulling their bodies flush against each other. He murmured into his ear, "Just checking. I want to be careful, being your first and all."

Enjolras' face burst into flames and he was glad Grantaire couldn't see him. His heart was beating rapidly already and he was taking deep breaths to steady himself.

Grantaire hummed, "Relax. I won't hurt ya. Scouts honor."

At that, Enjolras snorted, "You're telling me  _ you _ were a boy scout?"

"If it'll make you feel safer, then sure," He smiled, pulling back to look at the blonde, "I was like, the best boy scout."

"Shut up," He laughed, "Shut up and dance with me."

And they did. The first song came and went, and then the second, third, fourth...

They danced for what felt like hours, and Enjolras was losing himself in it. The whole while, Grantaire's hands never strayed, staying on his hips to guide him on the beat, and when Enjolras took one hand and moved it higher up on his waist, he obliged. It was  _ intoxicating _ .

_ I'm in love with the shape of you, _

_ We push and pull like a magnet do, _

_ Although my heart is falling, too, _

_ I'm in love with the shape of you... _


End file.
